Spring-Heeled Jack (13 page)

“
Pajamas,” Atticus said.
“Are you saying I should wear pajamas?”

Brock shrugged. “Why not?”

Atticus ignored the comment and went
back to scouring through his dressers. He picked a plain black
dress shirt, khaki slacks, and his red plaid jacket.

“
That’s it?” Brock asked.
“You spent all that time just to pick out the most boring of the
bland?”

“
Shut up! You said to pick
something comfy, so I did!”

Brock laughed as Atticus began to
weasel himself into his clothes. Just to be safe, Atticus brushed
his teeth and hair again, and slipped on a clean pair of socks. He
was not going to risk any part of him stinking up the
night.

Atticus went to grab his school bag,
but Brock stopped him.

“
Hey now,” he said, “you’re
not gonna be needing this for the movie.”

“
B-But, we’re gonna be
studying afterwards.”

Brock gave him a sly smirk and
Atticus’ face turned blush.

“
Trust me,” Brock said, and
then he shoved Atticus out of the dorm.

Atticus arrived back at the fountain
where he saw Camila sitting down already to go. He was left
speechless. She wore a cream colored blouse with a black collar and
skirt. Her long chocolate hair was hanging down with the ends
styled into a soft roll, pageboy styled. How she got ready so fast
blew his mind.

“
Y-You look wonderful,”
Atticus said.

Camila blushed and said, “You don’t
look too bad yourself, Mr. Detective.”

The two smiled at one another and made
their way to the theater.

*****

The Magister Theater was the grand
king of all movie theaters in the city. Unlike most others which
had only one or two auditoriums, the Magister sported eight large
auditoriums, each showing a different movie at all hours of the
day.

The exterior was everything you’d
expect from a Las Vegas movie theater, with enough bright lights to
completely illuminate the sky. Posters for all the shows were
garnished with plasma tubes to make them really stick out and draw
attention. A gold and blue arch covered the entrance and ticket
booth, and a long red carpet lead all the way into the
theater.

After buying their tickets, Atticus
and Camila made their way inside to the lobby. Eight different
halls lead to the eight different auditoriums, and in the very
center of the room was a giant circular concessions booth. The
smell of popcorn littered the air; buttered, burn, and everything
in between. On the ceiling was a mural of airships sailing across
the starry sky.

The two made their way to their
auditorium and Camila found them some seats that were close enough
to the front where you wouldn’t miss any action, but far enough
back so you wouldn’t hurt your neck. They say down and after a few
minutes the lights began to dim for the pre-show.

Everything was perfect, Atticus
thought. Nothing was going wrong. But, that wore off when Atticus
felt a sharp tinge run down his spine. The Ghost was
near.

Immediately, Atticus tensed up. Did he
put himself and Camila in danger? His body froze and his heart
began to pound violently against his chest. Despite the darkness of
the theater, Camila recognized something was wrong.

“
Atticus, what’s the
matter?”

“
N-Nothing,” he lied. “I
just need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

As he was about to stand up, Camila
pressed her hand on his. For just a moment, Atticus felt his fear
melt away.

“
Please, are you sure?”
Atticus could see she was worried about him. He wanted to tell her
something, but he didn’t know what. The truth? Would she believe
him?

Maybe it was all just date
anxiety.

Atticus shook his head and said,
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”

He got up and shuffled his way to the
bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water and tried to make
sense of why he was feeling so afraid. He told himself that there
was nothing to be afraid of, that in a public place filled with so
many people he didn’t need to be afraid of the Ghost
attacking.

Atticus stared down at the sink; the
water dripped from his face. He reached for a towel, but again he
felt the sharp tingle and froze up. He looked up and in the
reflection of the mirror, behind him, he saw the same cloaked
figure staring at him, its piercing green eyes unwavering. It was
almost as if it’d just appeared from nowhere.

Atticus turned around so fast he
nearly slipped and fell to the ground.

“
W-Who are you,” he asked.
The Ghost was silent. Atticus wanted to scream, but no sound came
out. He felt so powerless. There was no bravery he could possibly
muster up.

“
What d-do you want?” Still,
the Ghost didn’t respond. It made a step towards him.

Atticus jumped back. “What did you do
to the professor?”

The Ghost stopped in its tracks, its
eyes still glued on Atticus. Clearly, it didn’t expect him to bring
that up. The Ghost looked down for just a moment, which snapped
Atticus out of his paralysis. He used every last bit of willpower
he had to bolt out of the restroom and out of the
theater.

He turned around and looked inside.
Nobody seemed to be phased by anything. It was strange, but Atticus
didn’t dare run back in. But, what about Camila? He had to tell her
what was going on. But, the Ghost was after him. It didn’t care
about her. Atticus figured the best thing he could do to keep her
safe would be to get as far away as possible as he
could.

There was only one place Atticus
thought he’d be safe: the police station. He needed to speak with
Detective McCloud now more than ever.

When Atticus arrived at the station,
he was drenched in sweat and beyond exhausted. He’d just ran in a
desperate attempt to hopefully save his own skin, but Camila’s as
well. He darted through the doors and up to the receptionist who
probably thought he was being chased by a monster. The receptionist
was an older woman, probably in her mid to late forties. As Atticus
approached, she looked at him with wide eyes.

“
I need…detective…McCloud,”
he wheezed. His face was red and his heart felt like it was going
to explode any minute.

“
Son, what’s the matter?
What’s happened,” the receptionist bolted around her desk and tried
to help, but Atticus just battered her away.

“
Detective…need help!” The
receptionist wasn’t helping. Her heart was in the right place, and
she’d probably been instructed on what to do in similar situations,
but it wasn’t what Atticus needed. He just needed to speak with
Detective McCloud.

“
Please, I’m…fine,” he said.
“I just need…talk with the detective.”

“
You man, I can’t let you
speak to anybody unless you tell me your emergency.”

How was Atticus supposed to tell this
woman about his encounter with the Ghost? She’d probably think he
was crazy or pulling some prank, but then again, she probably did
already. He had to think of what Brock would say in a similar
position.

“
I-I’m working with
McCloud,” he said. “I’m his unofficial intern.”

“
Unofficial?”

“
Y-Yeah, I’m helping with
the Nelson case.”

The receptionist looked at him like
he’d just said something in another language. “What
case?”

“
M-Mike Nelson,” he said,
“the Fortuna Prep murder from a few days ago.”

“
Young man, do you think
this is some kind of joke,” she asked. “Lying about something like
this is extremely disrespectful.”

Atticus was at a loss for words.
“W-What? No, I’m not-”

“
Young man, that’s enough,”
said the receptionist. “There is no Nelson murder case.”

Atticus’ heart sank. Detective McCloud
wouldn’t let this drop. He knew there was something deeper going
on.

Just then, a familiar Scottish voice
filled the room. “What seems to be the problem.”

Atticus and the receptionist both
jumped. As if out of nowhere, McCloud stood behind them wearing his
fedora and black trench coat.

“
Hello, Mr. Whaelord,” he
said. “What seems to be the matter?”

“
Mr. McCloud this boy says
he wants to speak with you about the Fortuna Prep suicide,” the
receptionist said. “He said something about it being a
murder.”

“
Oh, did you find anything,
lad?” The woman couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “You see, Mr.
Whaelord here is my unofficial intern. He’s helping me solve the
Nelson murder.”

“
But Detective McCloud,
there is no Nelson murder. What’s going on?”

The detective glared at her. For just
a moment, the woman looked as if she went into a trance. She
blinked and when she opened her eyes, they looked blank and
lifeless. But a second later, she was back to normal and she
excused herself.

“
Now, lad,” McCloud said,
“let’s get down to business.”

McCloud lead Atticus back to his
office deep within the police station. Inside, he had dozens of
books and files, a standard wooden desk decorated with small brass
trinkets and knick-knacks as well as a name plate reading: Det.
Connor McCloud. Dangling from the ceiling were several model
airships that looked like children would play with.

“
Detective, shy didn’t the
receptionist know about the case?”

McCloud’s eyes shifted. “Well, the sad
thing is: It’s not an official case. I’ve no proof apart from my
speculations. As such, the station can’t treat it as
official.”

Atticus looked
disheartened.

“
But,” McCloud chimed in,
“there is nothing stopping me from investigating on my own
time.”

“
So, do you have any leads,”
Atticus asked.

“
Sadly, not right now.
Working as both Zebulon’s investigator as well as the city’s has me
a bit tied up.” McCloud smiled at Atticus. “That’s why I need you,
lad. You’re my eyes and ears around the campus. So what’ve you got
for me? You wouldn’t have come here for nothing.”

Atticus explained everything he knew
to the detective. He told him about Professor Varnum and the
Nelsons, as well as his theory on the Ghost and how he appeared to
him at the Magister Theater. The only details he left out were
about the lockets and his nightmare.

McCloud listened intently. He took
every word Atticus said seriously. “So you’re sure this Ghost is
the real deal?”

Atticus nodded. “I saw it with my own
eyes. It just appears and disappears.”

Detective McCloud leaned back in his
chair, carefully contemplating everything he’d heard. Atticus
wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but he did notice the cogs in the
detective’s brain working hard and fast.

“
And, you think your
professor is involved in all of this?”

Atticus nodded. “I know I shouldn’t
have, but I did some snooping around his office this morning and I
found a file hidden in his desk.”

McCloud’s eyes flared up and he
lurched forward. Atticus was afraid he may have said something bad,
but the expression on the detective’s face was that of an excited
puppy. “A file yeh say? What was in it?”

“
It, uh, had a really
important looking document in it,” Atticus said. “I had a hard time
reading it, but on the cover it said
10/1/3/11
: I & E. Do you have any
ideas what that means, detective?”

The detective’s look shifted from
excited to somber. He took a deep breath and reclined back in his
chair slowly and asked: “Lad, have you ever heard of
Mekanile?”

Atticus shook his head. “I don’t think
so.”

“
Mekanile is a rogue group
of criminals out to destroy the Zebulon Corporation.” McCloud
closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “This Ghost of yours, as
well as your professor, most likely work for them.”

“
How do you figure,” Atticus
asked.

“
Lad, that document you
found is most likely an ‘Invade & Execute’ order: I & E.
It’s an espionage code to infiltrate a location and terminate a
target. Numerous high powered organizations, even the Police and
Zebulon, use that code.”

Atticus shook his head in confusion.
“But, why kill Mike?”

McCloud shrugged. “The Nelson family
may have been working with Mekanile. Perhaps they didn’t uphold
their end of a bargain, and as punishments, a Mekanile agent, this
Ghost, was sent to kill their son. Mekanile is not above killing
children.”

Atticus thought about his dream with
the Ghost and Professor Varnum. The Ghost had said that Varnum,
“Defied The Master’s orders.” Atticus wasn’t sure who they were
referring too. He wanted to ask the detective, but he couldn’t
bring himself to talk about the nightmare.

As he thought, Atticus spotted
something on the corner of McCloud’s desk mixed in with a jumble of
papers and files. It was small and brass. Mike’s locket!